


At This Moment

by WizardsandPsychos



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Armor Kink, Banter, Corypheus (Dragon Age) is Dead, Gay, Gay Sex, M/M, Named Trevelyan (Dragon Age), OH SO I ALSO HAVE A KINK, POV Dorian Pavus, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, So they just went on and on, Tags Are Hard, Wine, and on with banter, the aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26023444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardsandPsychos/pseuds/WizardsandPsychos
Summary: Dorian receives an armour from the Inquisitor that comes with a brief note. It seems that the two of them are eager to spend time together, now that Corypheus is already dead, but Dorian later discovers that Michael is more worked up than usual.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	At This Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Basically what I felt after completing the main story. Man, I wish I got into this franchise sooner.  
> Also my first work for this fandom, so, please be easy on me. I don’t have a beta, and English isn’t my first language. Hoho~
> 
> My Trevelyan's name is Michael, and if (just IF) you want to know what he looks like, [this](https://strongsong117.tumblr.com/post/627226650323599360/imma-baptise-my-Tumblr-with-a-screenshot-of-my) is him. 
> 
> Also, here's what [Dorian's armour](https://strongsong117.tumblr.com/post/627228761639796736/dorian-pavus-in-white-battlemage-armour-thats) looks like

Dorian notices a bundle of white fabrics folded on top of his chair by the Inquisition library. He wasn’t out long, just a brief trip to the lobby for a change of scenery, then was held up by Varric and subjected to mild interrogation – harmless and solely for research, he said – about him and the Inquisitor, his life in Tevinter, and some other things that he’d already forgotten upon taking a step away from the dwarf.

Well, then, perhaps he was out longer than he thought. He groans in irritation at the thought of missing Michael, and makes a mental note to visit him in his quarters tonight.

He takes the surprisingly flowy armor and inspects it with appreciation. The Inquisitor surely knows Dorian’s style in clothing. It was something Michael made sure to get right, even with Dorian’s previous armours. He brushed his fingertips on the fine leather that was surely among Michael’s rare crafting stocks and smiled when he realized that the materials used enhanced his defenses and improved comfort for movement ease.

 _White_ , Dorian frowns at the color choice. _Why white? Surely, he must know that this would be easily stained with blo—_

His thoughts were cut off when a small piece of parchment fell from the armor’s back – it likely got stuck on the glossy leather – and brushed against his exposed arm. A single glance on the handwriting and he immediately knew who the note was from.

_Do you like it? I’d love to see you in it. Come by tonight?_

_\- M._

_My, my_ , Dorian tuts with an amused smirk as he shook his head in disbelief, _He beat me to it. Again._ He peeked outside the window and saw that the sun was infuriatingly still high up in the sky, but the thought of spending time with Michael eased a little bit of his irritation. Dorian admitted to himself – albeit brazenly – that he was not a patient man.

The time that it took for the sun to set almost felt like an eternity, but now was not the time to brood. He hastily walked to Michael’s chambers, receiving questioning looks from Gatsi and everyone he met on the way to his destination, as well as a cheeky, knowing grin from Varric.

He made sure to snatch a bottle of wine from the Inquisition’s stocks earlier that day – surely one bottle wouldn’t be easily noticed, and if it were, it was for the Inquisitor, anyway.

Upon entering the door to Michael’s room, Dorian decided to slow his steps and calm his breathing. He didn’t want to greet his amatus like a child eager for treats, and wanted to be as calm and as seductive as he can be, though he’d been assured that no matter what he did, Michael thought of him as such.

Dorian mutters a complaint at the amount of stairs before reaching the top. Yes, the view is beautiful, and they’d surely be undisturbed, but these stairs are a pain. He was never a fan of that many stairs.

He released a sigh of relief when he had a view of the Serault glass windows, and later the balcony overlooking the whole of Skyhold and the marvelous man standing there.

Dorian frowns in concern as he slowly walked towards Michael, who was obviously unaware of his arrival.

“Amatus?” Dorian called, smirking at the way Michael jolted in surprise.

“Ah, Dorian,” he responded, “What a lovely… surprise.” Michael fell silent as he scanned the armour – an exact fit – on Dorian. “Right,” Michael huffed, remembering that it was him who invited Dorian up.

Dorian smiled and cupped Michael’s cheek to bring his face nearer for a chaste kiss. “Good thing I brought the good stuff.”

“What is it? Wine?” Dorian lifts the bottle to view, smirking at the reprimanding – but also thankful – look Michael shot him. “We’ll have to thank Josephine for procuring these bottles for us. Maker knows we need it.”

The two of them walked towards the settee and sat close beside each other. Dorian wrapped an arm around the Inquisitor’s waist and held the wine bottle with his other hand, examining it. 

“So, amatus, what has gotten you so serious?”

Michael doesn’t respond, releasing a deep, wistful sigh instead. He shifts in his place to face Dorian properly, taking in the sight of him in the armour Michael made specially for him.

“The… I’m suddenly lost after beating Corypheus,” Michael admits, “I know there are still a lot of things to do, to fix – and it will surely distract me – but after, when we’ve dealt with the problem in the deep roads and when we’re done assisting with tracking for my predecessor, when Leliana leaves for the Grand Cathedral, when Varric goes back to Kirkwall, and…” Michael frowns deeply, his throat constricting at the reminder of Dorian’s impending departure. He attempts a chuckle, one that was obviously too forced. He nods resolutely, before adding, “I’ll be sure to visit Tevinter. Perhaps a bit more often than even you’d deem necessary.”

Dorian fell silent, also unwilling to part from this amazing man. He reached to twine their fingers together before releasing a deep sigh that seemed to calm his heart, if only a bit. Dorian brings Michael’s hand up to his mouth, planting a chaste kiss on the base of his palm.

“You’re thinking about the distance that will be between us in the future when I’m beside you at this moment.”

Michael sighs. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“We’ll be busy, you and I,” Dorian starts in a lighter tone, “You with the Inquisition and I with righting wrongs back in Tevinter. We’ll probably not notice the years pass by and be back together in no time.”

“I’m going to make the most of our time together.”

Dorian smiles at the Inquisitor’s eagerness – the same one that led them all to their victory against Corypheus. “You know what you need?” He stands up and walks towards Michael’s desk – making sure that his hips swayed enough to catch attention – grabbing two glasses and an opener. He poured enough wine on both glass, before offering Michael the bottle, who smirked with a raised brow as a response. “You need it more than I do,” he said teasingly.

“Oh, you’re too kind,” Michael teased back, grabbing the slightly more than half-full bottle and gulped from it directly.

The two of them chatted as they finished the wine, reminiscing the earlier days when they had to talk to each other outside the apothecary in Haven. It was difficult for Michael to seek out his companions since he had minor difficulties with directions, that’s why moving in to Skyhold was a welcome change. And there was even an exclusive room just for the Inquisitor. And Dorian.

“Do you feel better?” Dorian asked after emptying his second glass.

“Oh, yes, very much so. We need more opportunities like this to loosen up. Or at least, I do.”

“Then why don’t we play wicked grace next time? Just us?” Dorian smirks mischievously. “Strip wicked grace, that is.”

“You know I’m not good at that game.”

Dorian stands before moving his face closer to the Inquisitor’s, mouth hovering close to his ear. “Then all the more reason to play. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t intend to get you naked, just hone your skills.”

Michael laughed in a way that made Dorian’s worry lighten. He hadn’t laughed like that for a long time, and seeing him nonchalant eased a knot in Dorian’s chest.

“Why, you’re quite smooth, aren’t you, Messere Pavus?”

“As smooth as this fine armour’s leather, perhaps,” Dorian mutters. “Speaking of which. Amatus, you do remember the reason why I’m dressed like this, no?”

The Inquisitor shoots him a sly smile, eyes scanning the whole of Dorian’s magnificence. “I’m afraid I don’t, Dorian, the liquor’s made my memory fuzzy.”

Dorian sauntered a step closer, willing to play this teasing game that they’ve gotten themselves into. “Maybe I should help you remember.”

Michael stood up to close the distance between them, eager to taste Dorian in his mouth. “Do you like it?” he whispered hopefully.

“Yes, I do. Verily.” Dorian cupped Michael’s cheek, kissing him intently, opening his mouth to welcome the prodding tongue. He felt Michael whimper softly against his mouth when Dorian tightened his hold on his waist to grind their building arousals against each other. He breaks off the kiss after a while to inhale and said, “There is, however, one teeny-weeny problem with this armour.”

“Mmh… which is?”

“Too many straps and layers.”

Michael’s eyes flutter open, revealing magnificent greens hazy with desire and alcohol. “Do you need to discard them all? You’ll find that it’s quite accessible there compared to the other areas.”

“My, my, amatus,” Dorian chuckled in amazement, “It seems you’ve everything planned out.”

“Fitting,” Michael responds coyly, “I _am_ the Inquisitor.”

Before Dorian was able to come up with a reply, he was pushed down to the plush bed, Michael moving to straddle him. He eagerly rubs his clothed groin against Dorian’s as he kissed him hungrily, the sight of Dorian in that armour enough to finish him.

Michael specifically liked seeing Dorian in white, though he doesn’t know why or when it started. Well, he also tints his armour white, so this isn’t that much of a—

“Kinky,” Dorian teased, cutting off Michael’s drifting thoughts.

“This is not a kink.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Most of all, when you frantically grind against me.” Dorian brushed the tip of his fingers lightly on the Inquisitors exposed neck, eliciting a grumbly whimper from the man.

Michael sat up hesitantly to take in the view of Dorian under him, before eagerly pulling on the cloth to expose some of Dorian’s skin.

“Now, now, amatus,” Dorian chuckled, “Don’t rip the armour! I’m sure you used rare materials for this.”

Michael paused his eager hands and gazed directly on Dorian’s eyes before saying, “I’m sure I can make another.”

“Hush,” Dorian sat up and grabbed Michael by the shoulders switching their positions. “That’s not nice,” he teased, “You can’t just go on a dragon killing spree to harvest their scales.” When Michael was about to respond – a finger raised to make a point – Dorian interrupts him with, “Nor is it wise to purchase that many dragon scales from the Black Emporium. Too expensive, surely.”

Dorian noticed that Michael’s face suddenly beamed, before the man laid down with an elbow propping him up. “Then help me,” he chaffed.

“You read my mind, amatus. Now,” he turned to flash Michael a charming smile, “Enjoy the show.”

Dorian begins by removing his belt – he made sure not to put on the extra straps that connected it to his thigh when he wore it this afternoon – that fell straight to the floor. A glove and the white outer robes soon joined it on the floor, before Dorian worked on the straps that wrapped his left arm.

“Wait,” Michael called, getting his full attention. “Don’t… please don’t remove those.”

Dorian’s brows raised in delightful amusement. He was so focused on getting out of his armour that he didn’t notice the intoxicating way Michael watched him. His green eyes were now almost completely consumed by his dilated pupils, and Dorian was able to note the growing tent on Michael’s pants. _Not a kink, huh?_

Dorian stopped and walked towards the bed. “Are you certain that you want more of my clothes removed?”

Michael’s eyes widened slightly, blush becoming a shade darker. “But, would you be okay?”

“I’d prefer that, actually.”

“Then, just don’t get on the bed with your boots on.”

Dorian toes his boots off before climbing on top of the esteemed Inquisitor. “How unfair,” he starts out of the blue, pressing light kisses on Michael’s jaw.

“What is?”

“At least remove that outerwear, will you?” he nipped on Michael’s earlobe, eliciting a gasp from him, “And your gloves.”

“I really can’t,” Michael responded, throat tightening and vision blurring at Dorian’s gentle but relentless advances, “Not when—not when, _ah_ , you’re pinning me down like this.”

“Then let me help you with that.”

“ _Hnngh_ , yes please.”

Dorian grinds down on Michael as he raked through his clothed body in a deliberately slow manner. He removed all of Michael’s clothing that got in between them, and ran his fingers over the inquisitor's toned torso, mapped with countless scars both deep and shallow. He traced them one by one, remembering how worried he got whenever Michael slashed his way through numerous enemies with only two daggers. He repeatedly told the man to use bows instead, so that he wouldn’t be in the immediate surroundings of enemies’ blades.

“Whatever happened to ‘ _at this moment_ ’?” Michael asked, snapping him out from his thoughts.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” He’s left in confusion when Michael started chuckling, but was unable to hold back and joined him for Maker knows why.

“Aren’t we supposed to be aroused and taking actions to ease that?” Michael asks, wiping a stray tear with a finger.

Dorian smirks. “Is that what we were doing? Now, I just want to cuddle.”

Michael slaps his arm, releasing a soft ‘ow’ when his hand hit something hard. “I might pass out if we leave it at this, Dorian.”

“Oh, now, we can’t have that, can we?” Dorian asked in faux urgency. “I might be accused of taking advantage of the dear Inquisitor!”

Michael rolled his eyes and huffed in defeat. Even though he enjoys banter, his straining arousal pressed against Dorian’s only made him a tad more impatient. “Dorian.”

“Yes, amatus?”

“If I lose it, you’ll be the one on the receiving end today.”

“What?! But it was me the last time!” Dorian protested, still eager to tease.

Michael props himself up to bring his mouth closer to Dorian’s ear, breath hot and needy. “Then fuck me... _amatus_.”

The way the word rolled off of Michael’s tongue made any desire to pick on the Inquisitor fade away, and his neglected hardness twitched at the sound of an expletive from Michael’s mouth. The Inquisitor doesn’t usually swear. In fact, Dorian thought he never did, not until now.

Dorian slides down to level his face with Michael’s groin, stripping his trousers off impatiently. His vision grows darker when he learns that the man didn’t wear any sort of undergarment, and that his precum had already covered the head of his cock.

Dorian takes him in his mouth in one go, humming delightfully at Michael’s moaning as he lifted his hip to meet with Dorian’s movements. He hollows out his cheeks as he brought Michael closer to the edge, feeling fists tighten their grip on his hair. When he sensed that Michael was near, he sat up to look at Michael – writhing, whimpering at the loss of contact.

“Turn over,” Dorian commands – something he still isn’t accustomed to, since he was used to be the one being commanded. Michael complies, and he marvels at the impossible softness of his arse beneath his hands even though the Inquisitor’s body was very thoroughly toned that it could be sculpted and displayed in a Tevinter museum so that all of Thedas would be graced by his beauty. But that won’t do, will it? Michael is _his_. “Ah, you’re so beautiful.”

Dorian presses light kisses over the skin of Michael’s hip, moving progressively lower until he reached the crack of his arse. His tongue darts out and laps at Michael’s entrance, tormenting the man with his slow and certain movements. He felt Michael shudder and heard him moan aloud when he curled his tongue inside, grazing on the sensitive muscles there.

“Please,” Michael huffs, desire evident in his voice, “Please, Dorian.”

His name on Michael’s lips had always been something addictive – he was certain he could listen to it all day. But when it’s—

“Please, _amatus.”_

_Ah, fuck it. To hell with thoughts and coherence!_

Dorian hastily worked on his trousers and grabbed the vial of oil on top of the bedside table, pouring a generous amount on the crack of Michael’s arse, and some on his palm. He wrapped his hand around his shaft, grunting at the intense sensation brought by his neglected arousal. He lines his cock with Michael’s hole, hearing the sharp intake of breath from under him.

Michael pushes himself onto Dorian, arching his back when his hole had finally been breached*. “Shit, you feel so good,” Dorian mutters, releasing an animalistic growl as his cock was enveloped by Michael’s tight heat, feeling the muscles around him throb incessantly. He hadn’t moved. Not yet, lest he tip over the edge immediately. No, he plans to draw this out, make it last longer.

“Dorian,” comes a breathy call, and suddenly, Dorian wants to hear him beg, to hear him say _amatus_ again, and hear him swear in frustration and desire.

 _Perhaps the Inquisitor is not the only one with a kink_.

Dorian finds himself grinning widely. “What is it, amatus?”

He moans and stumble on his words, eagerly pressing himself against Dorian. “Please,” is his only response.

“Tell me, amatus,” Dorian whispered, “Or I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Michael practically keened when he felt hot breath land on his ear. He felt the texture of the armour’s material, foreign against his sensitive skin. All the stimulation had removed whatever coherence Michael had, but he was able to form two words:

“ _Fuck. Me_.”

Michael moaned when his prostate was hit, Dorian’s cock pulling and pushing into him with ease. For a while, the room had been filled with nothing but gasps and moans and constant calling of _Dorian,_ and _amatus,_ and _yes,_ and _more._

Dorian paused when he was nearing his climax – something he did with difficulty – and turned Michael around so that they faced each other. He starts moving again, pounding, as he devoured Michael’s lips with such fervour.

“More,” Michael pleads, fingers digging into Dorian’s back hard enough to leave bruises – bruises that Dorian will treasure and will wish for it to never fade.

“ _Amatus_ ,” Dorian whispers, his climax within reach, before biting on the skin of Michael’s shoulder. His movements become faster, and Michael’s moans grow louder that it might be heard down in the garden – not that either of them cared. Dorian sought Michael’s green eyes as he came inside him, movements hard and rigid.

Dorian doesn’t pull out, even after coming. He wanted to make sure Michael climaxed with Dorian’s cock, holding his hands above his head and pinning them there with one hand.

Michael writhes under him, legs tensing and breath becoming more laboured as he pants Dorian’s name like a chant. Dorian licks his earlobe and he’s moaning Dorian’s name as tears roll down his cheek, vision blurry with intense need to release.

“Amatus,” Dorian whispers again and Michael comes, harder than any climax he’d had. He wrings his arms free and grabs both sides of Dorian’s face to pull him to a deep kiss as Michael rode out his release.

They broke off, gasping for air, and Dorian’s senses became overwhelmed by the heady scent of sweat and release, and Michael. He gently pulled out, coaxing a gasp from his beloved Inquisitor.

“Now, we can cuddle,” Michael murmured, wrapping both of his arms around Dorian even though he was still on top of him.

Dorian poked at Michael’s side to tickle him and loosen his arms so that they wouldn’t be staying in such awkward position. He settled himself beside Michael, and thought that he wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. The warmth radiating from Michael made Dorian think of the days ahead when they would be apart, bed cold in the absence of his beloved. If only their problems miraculously disappeared so that they’d have each other to themselves for the rest of their lives.

“So,” Michael started, pulling Dorian out of his thoughts, “If I admit that I do have a kink, would you too?”

Dorian’s eyes widened at the question before he started chuckling nonstop. “And if I don’t?” He responded, receiving an unimpressed stare from Michael, before the man straddled Dorian again, bringing his mouth near his ears.

“ _A. Ma. Tus_ ,” Michael whispered in the most sultry voice he can manage.

 _Fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> I gotta write more of these two grrrr :>
> 
> So what happened here is that I wrote the giving end’s POV. I don’t usually do that so it may be kinda weird? Also, I haven’t completed writing anything since April (or was it May?) sooo I kinda got rusty. 
> 
> Anyway, tell me if there’s something I have to fix or if you’ve got criticisms. Feedback is treasure, I guess. Thanks for reading!! 
> 
> *: *facepalm*


End file.
